Dangerous Secrets (66 page)

‶
Indeed?″ Her lack of
gratitude stung him somewhat.
‶
Have you any idea what disarray you are in, Miss
Fenster? Have you any idea of the scandal your appearance would have
created?″

She blushed and put up a hand to tuck back a
stray curl.
‶
I
would have retired to the lady′s dressing room, naturally.″

‶
And no one there would have
remarked upon your state, I suppose?″

There was a dawning horror in her dark eyes,
but still a defiant set to her shoulders as she opened her mouth to reply. He
was never to know her answer, however, because her mother arrived at that
moment. With the bustle of a desperate woman, Miranda′s mother threw her
own lace shawl over her daughter′s exposed bosom, clucking softly in
dismay.

When her eyes found him, he could see the fear
in them. She thought her daughter ruined. Without having consciously made a
decision, he stepped in front of Miranda′s scandalized mother, halting
her flight from the room. The older woman looked up at him, her face nearly the
same lavender as her gown. He heard Miranda′s swift intake of breath as
he said calmly,
‶
I
certainly hope that Miss Fenster′s headache is gone on the morrow. May I
see you to your carriage, ladies?″

He watched as realization dawned that he had no
intention of noising the scandal about, and the frantic mother′s face
regained its normal color and expression. With dignity, she released her tight
grasp on her daughter′s cloaked shoulders and nodded.
‶
Thank
you for your kindness, my lord.″

‶
It is nothing.″ They drew
no comment from the few people they met on their way, and Simon relinquished
the ladies into Valentine′s care once they reached the hastily called
carriage.

Waiting for his own conveyance, he could not
help giving one rueful laugh. He still had a long way to go to get this devil
thing down.

Chapter 1

Kent,
1837

Miranda slipped deeper into her hiding place as
the duke appeared over a small rise with the setting sun at his shoulder. The
hooves of his chestnut stallion flashed through the few remaining wildflowers.
The last rays of the sun gleamed onto his fair head, giving him a halo that
Miranda had always thought he well deserved – until yesterday.

Was she a fool to hope she could persuade him
to help her brother? After all, army life changed men. It had made Valentine
laugh less and shout more. It had destroyed the equality between them when even
her father′s pompous speeches about woman′s inferiority and his
harsh punishments for her childhood transgressions had not.

What battle scars might the duke possess if he
could quash her brother′s elopement with heartless efficiency? A warning
unease curled in the pit of her stomach, but Miranda forced it away with a
memory of Valentine as she had left him — sitting forlorn and broken in the
darkness of Anderlin′s drape-drawn study.

She shifted to ease the stiffness of her knees
and the prickling of the yew branches that concealed her, as she watched the
duke dismount near the hunter′s cottage, tether his horse, and disappear
inside. She refused to surrender to the doubt that made her limbs heavy and
gave her heart a wild beat as she left her shelter and headed for the cottage.

The roughly-hewn wooden door swung open easily
at her touch, revealing the familiar room and its occupant. His back was turned
away from her as he sat at the rackety old table that served the cottage for
furnishing. As she entered, Miranda did the best she could to soften the forwardness
of her own behavior. She smiled demurely, dropped a perfect curtsy and said,
‶
Good
evening, Your Grace.″ To her surprise, her throat went dry just as she
began to speak. Her voice came out in a broken croak just as the door swung
closed behind her on noiseless rope hinges. The room fell into darkness save
for the single candle the duke had lit.

She realized her error when his shadowy figure
rose abruptly and whipped around to face her. His voice rang out harshly,
‶
What
the devil?″ Miranda had only the briefest glimpse of a worn leather pouch
before it was hidden within his jacket. Aware of the precarious balance of the
table, Miranda warned,
‶
Do be careful. That table ... ″ The table
rocked sideways, and the candle fell. They were plunged into darkness.

‶
Who the devil are you? What do
you want?″ His voice was no better than a snarl.

‶
I apologize for startling
you.″ Miranda eased her way across the floor toward the spot she had last
seen the candle.
‶
Don′t move, and I will soon have your candle
lit.″

His breath hissed inward, as though he were
outraged by her suggestion, and he was silent for a moment before answering
abruptly,
‶
I
assure you that I do not wish my candle lit.″

Miranda halted in confusion for the barest
second and then continued her search.
‶
Here, I have it. The candle has
come loose, I′m afraid. Let me just find — ″ Her foot touched the
loose candle.
‶
I
do so hate the dark, don′t you?″

She rose from the dusty floor, intending to
light the candle now reset in the holder. Her skirts brushed against something
unyielding and she could feel him, only inches from her. Startled, she froze,
trying to gauge how far away he stood. Only a rustle in the darkness forewarned
her before the candlestick was abruptly pulled from her hand.

‶
I have no quarrel with the
dark, only with young women who consider me easy prey.″ She felt the heat
that radiated from his body, so close they almost touched. Belatedly, she
realized that his anger was greater than she had first thought.

Seeking to soothe him as she might an ill child
when the child was in the throes of a temper, Miranda stroked his upper arm
gently.
‶
I
am sorry, Your Grace. I truly did not mean to startle you.″

The muscles of his arm tensed under her fingers
as he spoke, sending a flush of warmth through her as she realized that he was
no child and she had no business touching him so intimately.
‶
You
would be wise to consider yourself fortunate that I have not seen your face,
young woman, or you and your mother both would feel the sharp side of my
wrath.″

‶
My mother is dead.″
Miranda whispered, pulling her hand away, as the flash of familiar guilt spilled
through her.

‶
Go out to your aunt, then, or
your guardian, and tell her your plan failed. You are dealing with me, and I
will not be caught like a baited hare.″

‶
But ... I am alone — ″
Perhaps she should not have come. Perhaps he had become unbalanced as well as
hardened? Nervously, Miranda reached for the candlestick and met the warmth of
strong fingers. A shock passed through her, and she pulled the candlestick
sharply from his grip.

He bent toward her in the dark, so close that
she could feel his breath on her cheek. As she backed away, only to find the
table blocking her path, he said,
‶
Has she left you here and
driven away? Does she not know the danger in that? Do you not?″

She struggled to make out his face, but it was
only a deeper shadow in the darkness of the room.

‶
I trust you, Your Grace. I know
your reputation after all.″ She struck a feeble spark and the candlewick
began to glow.

His voice was grim.
‶
That reputation
fits me no longer.″

Miranda lifted the light of the flame until it
banished the shadows that held the duke. His mouth hung open in astonishment;
then his scowl turned to stern surprise.

‶
Dash it all. I would never have
believed this of you, Miss Fenster.″

The words Miranda had carefully rehearsed flew
from her mind. She blushed and her heart hammered painfully at the
disappointment that sped across his face and disappeared into a chilling
indifference. With less confidence that she had possessed moments before, she
drew a breath and made her plea.
‶
I wish to speak to you on a
matter of grave importance, Your Grace.″

His brow lifted, and a smile curved the left
side of his mouth.
‶
I trust, then, this is your brother′s idea of
revenge?″

His amusement discomposed her.
‶
Valentine
knows nothing of this.″

He smiled so widely that a dimple graced his
left cheek, but his green eyes were wintry.
‶
I′m afraid, Miss Fenster,
that even for someone with your ... notoriety ... I am sadly unable to oblige
you by being the prince in your fairytale.″

Miranda was momentarily distracted by his
smile, so that it took a moment for her to register the insult. Indignation
seared her. How dare he?
‶
You are certainly not acting like any fairy-tale
prince.″

He held up one hand.
‶
Don′t be
offended. I have been stalked by the best and I rank your efforts highly. You
simply should have chosen someone other than me.″

‶
You are the only one who can
help!″

The smile died on his face.
‶
That
is unfortunate, then. For I will certainly do nothing. Good day.″ He
turned and left the cottage without further word.

The heartlessness of his action stunned her.

He had been so certain Valentine only wanted
Emily′s money. A moment′s worth of listening to the pair would have
shown him the truth of their love. Knowing that she could not give up until he
had all the facts, Miranda followed him outside into the rapidly deepening
twilight where he was untethering his stallion. As she approached, the stallion
whinnied and shied away nervously.

His glance held a pity that chilled her, but
she put her pride aside to beg his indulgence.
‶
Please, you don′t
understand. Let me explain.″

‶
Nothing you can say could
change my mind, Miss Fenster. Have the courage to face the fact that you have
failed.″

Failed. All her life she had failed at the most
crucial times. But not today. His words sent a spark of anger through her, so
that instead of appealing to him once more, she slapped the skittish stallion
sharply on the rump. Her only intent was to move the horse farther away and
give herself some time to plead with the duke. The chestnut, however, tore the
reins from the duke′s hand and bolted. In dismay, Miranda watched the
mount gallop off. Then relief flooded her — now she had his full attention.

‶
I′m sorry, I didn′t
mean ... ″ Her apology cut off as she turned and saw his fingers lift to
his mouth. Her advantage had been illusory. The stallion was trained to come at
his whistle.

‶
No!″ she whispered. One
of the tricks she and Valentine had employed as children surfaced in her
memory, and she launched herself at his waist like a maddened bull until he
overbalanced, unable to whistle. Unfortunately, as he fell, she followed,
landing atop him like an ungainly goose.

When she lifted her head from his chest to look
him in the face, her stomach gave a lurch. His green eyes held no more
amusement, no more pity — only fury. Certain that she was crushing him, she
tried to rise, but he held her tightly. She could not tell if it was anger or
fear that made her limbs tremble, but whatever it was lent heat to her words.
‶
Do
you not understand what it is to love?″

Something deep and painful flashed behind his
eyes, and then disappeared.
‶
I will not be compromised by anyone, Miss Fenster. I
would have expected you, of all people, to understand.″ To his credit, he
sounded calm as his hands held her hips still.

The combination of being crushed against him by
his grip and the shock of his words brought a hot flush to Miranda′s
cheeks.
‶
Compromise
you?″

His eyes bored into her, and his brow lifted.
Miranda realized the picture they would present to any casual passerby — she
lying tumbled casually atop him. She struggled once again to rise, but he bent
his legs and used them to pin her hips, as he brought his arms up to pull her
closer, until she was pressed so tightly against him that she could feel the
frantic beat of her own heart against his unyielding chest. This was not the
man she remembered from five years ago. That man would have listened to her
long enough not to jump to such ridiculous conclusions.

Defeated, Miranda dropped her face into the
crook of his neck. The exotic scent of sandalwood took her breath away for a
moment, and her heart ached for the loss of the one man during her
foreshortened Season who had treated her as if what she thought actually
mattered.
‶
I
should have known I would make a hash of this. I merely came to beg you to set
right what you′ve ruined for Valentine,″ she mumbled against the
warmth of his neck.
‶
I have no intention of compromising you.″

‶
Indeed?″ His arms
tightened around her briefly; then he sat up abruptly, putting her aside.
‶
I′m
afraid in that matter, as well, you waste your time with me. You would do
better to speak to your brother.″

‶
I cannot speak to him. He has
locked himself in the study and refuses to answer to anyone at all.″ As
if she had not spoken, he rose to his feet and whistled sharply three times.
She would not have been surprised had his stallion come galloping back. But it
did not, even after another long string of whistles. Miranda watched his long,
elegant fingers brush at the dust on the knees of his breeches as he waited in
vain for the return of his horse. She remembered with a shiver the feel of those
fingers as they held her tight against him a moment ago. She gasped as her gaze
continued downward.
‶
I′ve ruined your boots! I′m so
sorry.″

He ceased his brushing to stare at her for a
long moment.
‶
You
are apologizing to me for ruining my boots, Miss Fenster?″

She recognized the absurdity.
‶
I
know how important it is to a military man to keep a good shine on his
boots,″ she explained, as she rose from her undignified sprawl on the
ground.

He gave her a level look.
‶
Do
you?″

She resolutely ignored the insult that was
certainly buried in his question.
‶
My brother was an officer in
His Majesty′s service, just as you were, Your Grace.″ She hastily
added,
‵
′Though
he served in a much less distinguished way than you.″

He said nothing, but a flicker of annoyance
crossed his face.

‶
I′ve brought some
refreshment for us, if you′d like,″ she said, remembering her mission.
‶
I
have a basket with cheese and apples, fresh-baked bread —″ the last from
the kitchen and who knew what Valentine would eat in the morning, if he ate at
all —
‶
and
some very fine ale.″

He looked her over pointedly from head to toe
until she was uncomfortably warm. His gaze was deliberate and thorough.
Blushing, Miranda indicated the copse.
‶
The basket is hidden in
there.″

‶
Admirable,″ he said.
‶
Your
planning seems to be on a par with our great generals. It is unfortunate that
you are of the fair sex and so England is denied your campaigning genius —
except on the battlefield of love.″

His sarcasm cut deeply.
‶
Perhaps I would
have made a good soldier, Your Grace — even if I am only a woman.″ Seeing
his frown, she sighed. This was not the time for that battle.
‶
You
must admit it is much too far to the Camberley′s estate for you to walk,
as it will soon be dark.″ The clouds foretold rain, and soon, as well,
but she decided it was wiser not to mention that fact.